by Heather Plett | Sep 11, 2006 | Uncategorized
All over the internet, people are remembering 9/11. Though I’m a country away, and may not have been impacted as much as our neighbours to the south, I remember too.
It was Nikki’s first day of kindergarten. Few thoughts were on my mind that morning, other than the milestone of sending our first child to school. I don’t have a strong recollection of seeing her off at school, but I’m sure that she was stoic and composed. Beneath the exterior, though, she was probably stressing about whether she’d put her shoes in the right place, whether she had the “right” kind of backpack, and whether she’d know how to follow all the teacher’s instructions correctly. Few things worry her more than staying within the framework of the rules.
I left her there and jumped in the van to head downtown to my office. On the radio, the first hint that there was something seriously wrong was the unmasked emotion in the voice of the radio announcer. She was fighting tears as she relayed the story of the plane hitting one of the towers. In retrospect, I suppose she wasn’t one of the more experienced announcers – she hadn’t learned to mask her own connection to a story.
As I drove, I had the eerie feeling that the world had just changed. An office tower had been hit by a plane. This meant that there was no safety anywhere anymore. A plane could drop out of the sky and hit my van. I could step out of the elevator in the office tower where I worked, and watch a plane fly through the window. I, along with every other person in North America (or anywhere else, for that matter), was vulnerable.
I arrived at work late, and few people had heard the news yet. Once in my office, I turned on the TV (yes, I had a TV in my office because I worked in media relations and had to watch the news now and then), and people started congregating around me. We couldn’t believe what we were seeing. As we watched, the second tower was hit. This was no longer a random accident.
Throughout the day, the TV stayed on in my office. I tried to work, but was constantly interrupted by people stopping by to catch glimpses of what was going on. There was a subdued air in the office. No one knew what to say.
On the way home from work that day, I wrestled with what to tell the children. Though Nikki was only 5 at the time, she was incredibly perceptive and I knew that she would hear about this and would worry. I had to tell her at least some portion of the truth so that she would be prepared when she heard about it through a classmate or teacher. When I picked her up at daycare, I explained what happened in simple terms. “Some bad people flew planes into some very tall buildings. A lot of people died in those buildings.” “But why mommy? Why would bad people do that?” “I’m not sure, honey. Sometimes people get angry at other people and they want to hurt them because of their anger.”
Shortly after we got home, I noticed her at the front window, watching a fire truck go by. “Mommy,” she said, “are those fire trucks going to the towers?” Hmmm… I guess I forgot to tell her that the tall buildings were in a city far away from here. The questions didn’t stop there. They never do. Throughout the following week, she pestered me again and again, especially when she caught sight of the news reports. She needed some understanding of why something like this could happen. Did the bad people have families? Where did the bad people live? Did they rescue anyone alive from the towers? If it happened THERE, could it happen HERE?
Around the same time, my sister and I were planning a trip to New York City. Our initial plans, in fact, would have meant that we’d have been there around the time the towers came down. I didn’t want to miss the start of kindergarten, though, so we delayed our plans. Now we didn’t know whether we could go through with it or not. With planes grounded all over North America, it wasn’t clear when or if our trip would happen.
A lot of people thought we were crazy for still considering a trip to New York City, but we decided to go through with our plans anyway. We were not about to let fear diminish our lives. After all, didn’t Rudolph Guiliani and the President tell people to keep visiting, keep shopping, and keep attending the theatre? And wouldn’t New York City be one of the safest places in the world in the aftermath of the tragedy?
At the end of October, we visited NYC as planned. We were greeted at the airport by soldiers with machine guns, something I’d never seen in a North American airport before. Times had changed.
We went to the theatre, we shopped, we took tours on a double-decker bus and a boat, and we wandered around Central Park. We did all the things tourists do. We enjoyed ourselves, and we fell in love with a big beautiful city whose heart still beat with a bold, indomitable pulse. We listened to people’s stories of the New York that was, we saw the memorials in front of fire stations, and we honoured the hurt all around us. We saw the smoke rise from the gaping sore in the city’s centre. We smelled the faint scent of death and destruction. We didn’t get very close to ground zero (I was pregnant at the time and had doctor’s orders not to walk too far), but through the surrounding towers, we glimpsed those infamous remaining beams marking its place.
After visiting New York City, it wasn’t hard to understand why that city had been targeted by the terrorists. If you want to hurt someone, you aim for the heart. NYC has a lot of heart. It’s a vibrant, pulsing city, and its pain would (and did) reverberate across the country and beyond.
Today, five years after the fact, I don’t want to forget, but at the same time, I can’t help thinking it’s time to move forward. Although the loss of 2996 lives is tragic beyond measure, I find it even more tragic that, in the 5 years since, a culture of fear has been used by political heavyweights to justify hatred and the abuse of power. I’m sick and tired of hearing about the “axis of evil”. We all know that words are powerful things, and if we are continuosly reminded of the evil threats against our countries, we can’t help but start to believe it. On this, the fifth anniversary of 9/11, I sincerely wish that old language could be set aside for a new language – one that builds on hope, justice, and compassion instead of fear, evil, and hatred.
by Heather Plett | Sep 10, 2006 | Uncategorized
– Although I’m not a very orderly person, I love order. I love it when all the pieces are lined up and fitted into their designated slots. I spent a little bit of time finding order in our lives this weekend – lining up the budget, cleaning house, doing laundry. I get a burst of pleasure when the pieces line up. It makes me wish I could convince myself on a daily basis that the pleasure is worth the pain of maintaining order. But I’m way too lazy for that.
– I’m not very fond of our backyard. By this time of year, it shows. It’s gotten overgrown and unkempt and looks nearly abandoned. In the Spring, before the bugs arrive, we spend a fair bit of time back there, eating suppers on the deck, etc. But as the summer heats up and the bugs arrive, we spend less and less time there. It feels much too closed in (the only way to get there is through the garage or through a narrow pathway beside the garage, and it’s surrounded by fences and overgrown shrubs), and therefore kind of claustrophobic and bug-infested. This year we inherited a wooden bench seat from a neighbour who moved away and we placed it in the front yard. We spend quite alot of time out there now, watching the world go by. A neighbour walked by yesterday as I was sipping my iced tea and said “you look relaxed”, and indeed I was. I’ve decided that I much prefer front yard living. It makes me feel more connected to the world. Maybe that’s the extrovert in me coming out.
– I don’t particularly like doing laundry, but I like folding towels. I learned the “right” way of folding towels when I spent a summer working as a chambermaid at a resort in Banff. It was a horrible job, cleaning the messes people left behind when their vacation ended. Vacationing people tend to be more sloppy than at-home people, because they aren’t responsible for their own messes (do you know how hard it is to scrape dried-on Cheerios off the floor?) Once in awhile, when we’d check our day’s duties in the morning, Allison-the-mean-boss would have selected one of us to be the “spare” person which meant you didn’t have to clean rooms, but instead spent most of the day in the large laundry room, folding towels and doing other odd jobs. I learned to fold a perfect towel (anything less than perfect risked the wrath of Allison), and I still take pride in my stack of neatly folded towels. The last weekend of that summer was the best because Allison-the-mean-boss learned that I was good at sewing, so I got to spend the busiest weekend of the year mending laundry bags, sheets, and towels. She wasn’t mean to me once all weekend. Instead, she raved to everyone about how well I sewed. It was a good way to end an otherwise horrible summer.
– It’s not a bad gig when your children grow old enough to be contributing members of the household. Yesterday, when Marcel was out, the living room and bathroom got cleaned without me having to set foot in either room! And they were an acceptable level of clean, not the kind you have to re-do when they’re done. And one daughter taught the other daughter how to clean the toilet! What’s not to like?
– Right now, Maddie is dancing around the basement with butterfly wings strapped to her back. She just said “I wish I was a REAL butterfly.” And then she thought about it for awhile, reconsidered the permanence of her wish, and said, “I wish I was a person who could turn into a butterfly whenever she wanted.” Me too. Wouldn’t it be fun to float around and watch people?
by Heather Plett | Sep 7, 2006 | Uncategorized
Just thought I’d try this whole “Thursday Thirteen” thing on for size.
1. When Nikki packs her school bags, she makes sure everything fits in an orderly fashion. Before she went to bed last night, she came to see me to list off all the things she’d packed to make sure she didn’t forget anything.
2. When Julie packs her school bags, she’s just happy if nothing is dragging so low that she’ll trip on it. And even if she DOES trip on it, no big deal.
3. Maddie is very proud of her new pink lunch bag. She felt like one of the grown-up kids when she packed her lunch last night.
4. Nikki went to school wearing her new pink skirt and top, re-did her ponytail about five times, and stressed about the tie on her blouse not being quite right for first day of school pictures on the front lawn. When I kissed her, I could tell she’d applied lip gloss. Her ensemble was complete with her beloved Crock footwear on her feet.
5. Julie went to school with her torn-on-purpose jean shorts and a blue tennis shirt, looking a little like the punk rocker/tomboy she aspires to be. She barely combed her hair for the first day of school pictures. She gave her sister a hard time for re-tying her bow.
6. Maddie hopped out of bed this morning when she realized it was her first day of daycare and she’d have a golden opportunity to make new friends. She was content to wear whatever I pulled over her head, though she wanted flip-flops on her feet instead of the sturdier shoes I insisted on.
7. When we met with Julie’s teachers, and they asked if there was anything they should know about Julie, one of the things I mentioned was that Julie finds school a little too easy and needs to be challenged a little more than she was last year. Marcel mentioned that she read ALL of the Harry Potter books by the time she was eight because she devours books faster than we can get them from the library. Julie sat beside us trying not to let them see a little grin sneak onto her face while we bragged about her.
8. When we met with Nikki’s teachers, and they asked if there was anything they should know about Nikki, one of the things I mentioned was that Nikki is very diligent about getting her homework done and never has to be reminded to do it, especially if it is a big project and it’s not due until next week. Marcel mentioned that she particularly likes history and politics (like her dad) and impressed last year’s teachers by how much she knew. (Do YOU know all the leaders of the political parties?) Nikki sat beside us trying not to let them see a little grin sneak onto her face while we bragged about her.
9. When I filled out Maddie’s registration form for daycare, I said her favourite foods are peanut butter and bagels with cheese. I also said that her favourite activities are making new friends and playing on play structures. ANY and ALL play structures. What I didn’t add was that Maddie can spot a play structure miles before we pass it and tries to convince us to stop at ALL of them. There are a few play structures close to our house, and she prefers going to the one where there’s the highest probability that there will be other children there.
10. Nikki was worried that we didn’t have enough money to cover all the school and daycare fees we need to pay.
11. Julie told me about 5 times that she has “butterflies in her stomach” but that she couldn’t WAIT for school to start.
12. Maddie is already convinced that daycare will be the GREATEST PLACE ON EARTH because her sister told her they sometimes got to go to 7-11 for Slurpees when she used to go there. Oh, and there’s the “new friends” thing.
13. Okay, this last one’s not about the girls. Marcel is back in school too. He’s been at the school where he’s doing his first student teaching for a few days now. He’s almost as excited as the girls. So far, he seems very happy about the prospect of becoming a teacher. He’s student teaching at the school that’s right next to Nikki and Julie’s school, so he can drive them home on the days he’s there. I forgot – I should have included him in the “first day of school” picture this morning.
by Heather Plett | Sep 4, 2006 | Uncategorized
What possesses someone to jump out of a perfectly good airplane? I’m not sure I know how to answer that. I’ve just known for a long time that I wanted to do it. And lately, it’s been a stronger urging than a simple desire – it’s been more like a “need” to do it. Why? To find out what the sky tastes like. To push myself to the limit. To stare fear down and laugh in its face. To learn to let go of an airplane. To get fullness out of life. To float above the world and then settle down into it with a new perspective. To find out what I am capable of. To live abundantly. To test my own boldness.
There are three kinds of reactions when you tell people you jumped out of a plane. Some people think you’re completely nuts and have no comprehension of what would drive you to do something so insane. Some people think you’re nuts, but at the same time they admire and possibly even envy your courage for doing it. Some people can completely relate because they have already done it or know that at some time in their life they will do it so they want to know all the details.
For those of you who want all the details, pull up a chair and let me tell you. I think this is an experience I’m going to want to talk about for a long, long time, so I’m just getting warmed up here. (I have to warn you – this is going to be long. I’m writing it for me as much as you.)
The day started early. I picked up my friend Jo-anne who, when she turned 40 a few years ago, had also decided jumping out of a plane was on her list of things to do. On the way there, we were like giddy little school girls. “Do you think we’ll really have the nerve to do it once we’re up there in the sky?” “What do you think it will be like landing on the ground?” “Do you know that nearly every person I talked to about this knows of someone who broke their leg coming down?” “Did you hear that we have to CLIMB out of the airplane instead of JUMP?”
We arrived at Adventure Skydiving at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Little did we know though, that a 9:00 start time is more like a recommended time to arrive – not necessarily when the class would start. We walked into the brightly painted hanger (painted about 6 different VERY BOLD colours – I suspect it reflects the personality of the people whose passion is jumping out of planes) and found our way to the office. There were several people milling around. It was hard to tell if they were staff or fellow first-timers. Most of them seemed to know each other, so we sensed that they were somehow connected to the place. One or two people were busy packing parachutes into their very small packs. One fellow in particular caught my eye. Everything about him screamed “California surfer dude without the surf” (except that he didn’t have blonde hair). Actually, he looked (and talked) alot like Keanu Reeves in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. On a cool morning, he was the only one dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. And there was a casual “how’s it hangin’?” air about him. I suspect that similar kinds of people are drawn to the surfboard and to the parachute. He didn’t look too bright, and my first thought was “that can’t possibly be our instructor.” (Of course, you know how this will end, don’t you?) After packing a chute, he went upstairs to the loft and played an arcade game while we waited.
In the office, we signed our lives away. Yes, we were aware that what we were about to do could lead to our deaths or at least serious dismemberment. Yes, we were willing to give up all our rights and never, ever sue the company. No, we did not have serious injuries or conditions hindering us from jumping. Yes, even if we died, we promised that our estates would never, ever sue the company. And one of the scariest things on the form – the ONLY thing they would guarantee was that the parachutes we would use had been used before! No, it didn’t say they had been used SUCCESSFULLY before – just that they weren’t new out of the box. For all we knew, they might have wiped the blood from the last jumper off the chute before packing it for us.
Around 9:45, our instructor (yes, of course, it was Keau-Reeves-look-alike-arcade-playing DUDE – what else did you expect?) gathered those of us who were taking a first-timer course into the classroom. There were ten of us – six twenty-something friends who probably bet each other while inebbriated that they had the balls to jump out of a plane (including one girl, who also talked about balls now and then), a 40-something guy and girl who knew each other but didn’t seem to be a couple, and Jo-anne and I.
One of the first things instructor-dude told us was “most of your chutes are packed, but we’re still waiting for some of the guys to show up to finish the rest. They’re still too hungover from last night, but they’ll get here.” And I said “oh, thanks for that little bit of comfort – assuring us that our chutes are being carefully packed by hungover party dudes”. Hmmm…
Some people have asked what I did all day, since I didn’t jump until 3:00. Well, there are alot of things to learn before you go up in that plane. One of the first things you learn is how to get out of the plane. It might seem simple, but believe me, that is by far the HARDEST part. No, you don’t just let go of the door and jump. You have to CLIMB out of the plane, stand on a step on top of the wheel, hang onto a strut coming down from the wing (all while the wind is blowing at you about a hundred miles per hour), slide along the strut up to the end, take your feet off the step (yes, by that point, you’re hanging in the air by your fingertips), bend your head back, and then let go. YES it IS as tough and heart-stoppingly frightening as it sounds.
So you can imagine – in order to get that all right when you’re 4500 feet up in the air, you have to practice. And practice again. And again, while instructor-dude shouts at you like a drill sargeant. In our case, after watching it happen several times on video, we all went outside to the roughly built wooden practice plane to go through our paces. “Slide your right foot along the step (while keeping contact so that the wind doesn’t whip your foot against the side of the plane), put your left hand out onto the strut, right hand out, then your whole body, placing your left foot next to the right – now slide to the end of the wing.” Yes it DOES have to happen in that order.
What else did we practise? Well, when you let go, you have to put your legs shoulder-width apart, throw your hands above your head, and arch your body. This is the part where instructor-dude said “guys, this is your chance to thrust your hips forward and shout to the world ‘I have a very large penis!'” Yes, he was that classy. Once you’re arched, you have to count 5 counts, and then check right and check left to make sure your chute has deployed properly.
This brings us to the really interesting part… how do you KNOW that your chute is deployed properly? Well, there are 4 things to watch for – the right shape, no cords wrapped around it, no spinning, AND it hasn’t forgotten to deploy entirely. Trust me, you want to memorize these malfunctions if you ever take the leap. They are firmly embedded in my mind. I even dreamed about them last night.
And if it malfunctions, you need to know how to get rid of your main chute and deploy your reserve. This is the part where you think “What the @#!!@$! am I doing planning to jump out of a plane with a chute that MAY NOT deploy?” But, by that point, I was pretty committed, and if there’s something you should know about me, it is this – I AM STUBBORN. Once I decide to do something, it would take broken limbs or a raging tornado to change my mind. Since neither of those things had happened, I was in for the long haul.
With all that training spinning around in my brain, we took a break for lunch. My greatest fear was that I would forget something essential when it really mattered. “Was that punch right and then punch left to get rid of my chute and deploy
the reserve? What if I punch left first? What if I put my right hand onto the strut before my left hand?” Oh, my whirling, twirling brain!
After lunch, we had a few last minute things to learn – like how to control your chute once it is fully and properly deployed, how to tell which way the wind is blowing, how to land, etc – and then it was test time. Yes, there’s a test. I guess they don’t want to take anyone up in that plane if they’ve been sleeping through the course. Forty questions later, I handed in my test and went back to the hanger to wait for the green light to jump. Instructor-dude came out a few minutes later and called each of us over to let us know what we got wrong and what the right answers were. No, there was no 50% passing grade on this one. One single mistake could mean your life. I got only one wrong, and once he’d ensured I knew the right answer, I had to initial the question I got wrong so that he couldn’t be held liable for mis-instructing me.
By this time, my family had arrived to watch the excitement. (Well, most of my family – Nikki’s still at her friend’s cabin and was quite happy to miss watching me jump out of a plane.) Marcel, Julie and Maddie were there, as were my Mom and Paul. Once again, it’s interesting to note the differences in people’s reaction. My kids – well, Nikki hated the idea of watching me, Julie is dying of jealousy and is determined to get a job there so she can jump as often as possible, and Maddie was so busy making friends with a couple of other kids hanging around there that she was fairly oblivious to what was going on. When it comes to parents, it’s different too. Mom was thrilled to watch, and probably would do it herself (she’s a bit of an adventure junkie too), while Marcel’s mom was horrified and probably spent the whole afternoon at home with her rosary praying for my survival.
Jo-anne and I were the last group to go (there were two or three jumpers per plane-load and only one plane, so it took 4 flights), so we watched everyone else jump first before we suited up. In the second plane-load, one of the twenty-something party dudes came back down in the plane. He’d lost the nerve and couldn’t jump. I hope his ego survives the ribbing he’ll inevitably suffer.
“Jo-anne and Heather – time to suit up.” It was our turn. First you find a jump suit that fits. I slipped into mine. Sweaty arm-bands. Yuck – someone had used it just before me. But by the time I had it that far on, I didn’t want to bother finding another one. I’d just have to put up with the reminder of someone else’s fear.
The pack they slide onto your back and buckle to your shoulders and legs is HEAVY. And by three o’clock in the afternoon, it was HOT outside. Between the jumpsuit, the parachute, the helmet, and the fear, I was sweating. And dry. All at the same time. Both Jo-anne and I were feeling excrutiatingly parched, but the last thing we wanted to do was have to undress to pee, so we didn’t drink anything.
When the plane was ready for us, we climbed on board. The plane… hmmm… what can I tell you – it doesn’t instill a great deal of confidence in you. For one thing – it’s tiny. The interior is smaller than the interior of a volkswagon beatle, and you have to get four or five people in there WITH packs on their backs. You feel like one of those clowns that piles out of the tiny car at the circus, along with seven of his closest friends. You have to fold your body into painful shapes, crouching on your haunches to fit into your tiny space.
Once we got in, we looked around and realized it wasn’t like those NEW VW beatles – it was more like one of those old hippie beatles from the seventies. Forty years past its prime. The interior is ancient and it’s held together with red duck tape. I put my arm on the small arm rest, and it fell off. Nope. Not a real confidence booster!
As much as it seemed like an old beater (I half expected to watch the runway through a rusted hole in the floor), the take-off went smoothly. It was my first experience in a small plane, and it was a rush. I loved it. It feels somehow more visceral and connected to the sky than a flight in a air-pressure-controlled jet. I’d love to do it again sometime. Perhaps the next time I’ll do it without jumping out, so I can enjoy the ride a little more. 🙂
The plane climbs higher and higher, circling around the small airport. I kept glancing out the window and watching for the runway. Our landing strip was right next to the runway. One of my greatest fears was that I’d jump out of the plane, lose my bearings, and have no idea where to come down. (I forgot to mention that just after we arrived in the morning, we saw someone jump and she floated WAY off course – they had to send a truck out to try to find her.) The sight of the landing strip was a bit of a touchstone for me while I grappled with my fear.
Jo-anne was the first one out. In preparation, the instructor (not our classroom instructor, but a cuter, friendly, less crass instructor who instilled a great deal of confidence by looking at us with his beautiful relaxed eyes, and believing we could do it) had her kneel down as though she were kissing the floor. He removed the pilot chute from her pack and held onto it (he would deploy our chutes by releasing the pilot chute after we jumped.) Once we reached 4500 feet, he opened the door. Wind filled the plane. A few moments later, he nodded to Jo-anne, smiled reassuringly, and gave the command “Get all the way out!” Inching past him, she slid her right foot out, then her left hand, her right hand, and her left foot. “I’m going to slip!” she shouted to the instructor, and sure enough, before she’d reached the end of the strut, she slipped. Like a shot, she disappeared beneath us. I glanced out the window just in time to see her chute deploy. Whew! Even though she hadn’t managed to follow the instructions to a T, she’d survived. If she could do this, I could do this!
We circled once more, and then the instructor nodded at me. I knelt close to the door in front of him and kissed the floor. With the wind whipping at my face, the instructor leaning over me, and the fear gripping me, I felt suddenly claustrophic. Let this be over soon, I prayed silently. I didn’t mean the jump – just the odd prostate position I had to hold next to a wide-open plane door while he prepared my chute. He tapped my shoulder and I sat up. Then came the command I’d waited for… “Get all the way out!” Aaaahhhh! This was it! I was about to leap!
I can hardly describe those next few seconds (they felt more like minutes but were really very short). I think my brain and body went into survival mode. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t feel – I could only act. “Right foot, left hand, right hand, right foot.” I was numb – the fear felt like a cloud wrapped tightly around me constricting my breath. “Move,” was all my brain communicated to my body. “Do not think, do not look down, just move.” And move I did, inching along the strut like I’d practiced. I felt the instructor’s foot next to mine, coaxing me along. My feet left the step and I was hanging. For only a moment, though. I glanced at the instructor, looked up at the red dot on the wing they’d told us to look for (to ensure we were looking up when we left the wing and were ready to launch into the arch position) and let go. Wow! I let go!
While the climbing out felt like a suspension of feelings, thoughts, and emotions, the letting go felt like they had all come back, sharpened to 150% in their focus. Adrenaline rushed through my veins. The thought I remember was “I have just done the scariest thing I have ever done (by choice) in my life!” As the thought entered my mind, I felt the gentle tug of the chute deploying and my body following it into an upright position. I didn’t have time for the five count. I don’t think I even THOUGHT of the five count. Before I knew it, my chute was perfectly deployed and I was floating. FLOATING! 4500 feet above the earth!!!! Now I know what the sky tastes like! It ta
stes incredible. It tastes like a life fully lived.
As I floated down from the plane, I had the feeling that my perceptions were powerfully enhanced. Every sight and sound and sensation was bolder than it had ever been. Every moment felt like a lifetime wrapped in a second. “This is so much more than I could have dreamed of,” I thought. “I have never felt so alive!”
Coming down is much easier than I thought it would be. A ground controller talks you down through the radio strapped to your chest. “Jumper 2,” he says, “45 degrees to the right,” and you tug your right toggle and feel your chute turn to the right. At 45 degrees, you release the toggle. A few moments later, “Jumper 2, Jumper 2, 90 degrees to the left,” and you see the runway beneath you. From up above, I watched Jo-anne land successfully on the designated landing strip. I saw my family near the hanger. “Jumper 2, you’re doing just great.” I was headed directly toward the windmill at the Steinbach Mennonite Heritage Museum. “Jumper 2, 180 degrees to your right,” and the landing strip was in front of me. “Jumper 2, relax and get ready to land.” The ground was quickly approaching. “Jumper 2, eyes on the horizon. Ready, now FLAY!” and I pulled down hard on both toggles, my feet touching the ground. My body collapsed straight forward, gently crumpling to the ground.
I stood up, threw my arms into the air, and shouted. “Woohoo!” I looked around me and saw the video camera pointed toward me. “Woohoo!” I shouted again and leaped into the air. I was alive! SO alive! More alive than I’d ever been!
Before long, I spotted Julie and Mom running toward me. I gathered my chute and headed toward them. The world was strangely silent. I saw the plane landing on the runway in front of me, but I heard no sound. The only sound that registered was the sound of my own breathing, strangely loud and accentuated in my ear. It was the sound of life. My life.
There you have it – the story of my jump. It was all the things I dreamed of and more. It was life-affirming and life-altering all at the same time. When I looked at myself in the mirror that evening while I brushed my teeth, I saw a woman who I respected more than I ever have in my life. That woman in the mirror had jumped out of a plane. She was incredible. She was bold. She was powerful. I went to bed knowing that if I can jump out of a plane, I can do so many more powerful things in my life. Watch out world – here I come!
Only 38 things left to do on my list!
